


shoulders

by wizardinblack



Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom/sub!Roman, Light Dom/sub, Like barely.., M/M, Prostate Milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 16:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12868335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardinblack/pseuds/wizardinblack
Summary: God gave him broad shoulders





	shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this saved in my drafts for a while and forgot about it...based off an older interview i think on rawtalk when roman said "god gave me broad shoulders for a reason" and it just stuck with me

God gave him broad shoulders. 

Roman always says, God gave him broad shoulders, gave him two strong arms with a sturdy back and thick legs to stand on, gave him them for a reason, gave him them so the weight of the world that he held wouldn’t hurt so bad, so Roman could take it all and carry it all.

God gave him broad shoulders, and Roman uses them, doesn’t even think about it, takes whatever he’s given and piles it on, carries it and trudges through every day with it picking up more and more as he goes.

God gave him broad shoulders, and Dean hates it.

Hates that Roman feels so obligated to carry the weight of the goddamn universe on them, because even when Roman acts like everything is fine, Dean knows it isn’t.

Dean knows what it’s like to break, to crack and shatter and fall and have everything collapse around you, he knows what it’s like to bite your tongue and pretend it’s not happening, to get up and scratch and claw till your fingers bleed because if you don’t the ground will fall out beneath you and you will crash and burn.

He knows when he can see it happening to someone else, and he knows Roman tries to hide it from him. He tries to act like he can handle it all, like nothing bothers him, but Dean can see when his facade is breaking, can tell the difference between his real smile that stretches his lips so wide you can see all his teeth, and the fake smile he gives when he isn’t fully there, lost in the burdens of his mind.

Dean hates it because he knows what it’s like to be alone with those burdens, and it took him a long time to understand that he wasn’t alone, and it was Roman who did that for him. Roman, who so willingly took on Dean’s baggage without even a blink of an eye, Roman who picked Dean up and placed him on his shoulders like he weighed nothing at all. Roman, who made him realize that despite everything, it would be alright in the end.

And now, Dean wants to take some of that weight back, wants to help Roman the same way Roman helped him.

Roman won’t talk to him, won’t tell him how he is breaking, cracking under pressure, ready to fall under all that weight, and Dean won’t force him to speak, never being particularly good at him himself, so he helps in a different kind of way.

So often, Roman is in control. In every aspect of his life he is in control. And a lot of that weight he carries comes from the feeling that he absolutely must be in control. Dean knows this is how Roman feels, can tell by the way Roman likes to plan ahead, gets flustered when things don’t go the way they are supposed to.

But there is one instance in which Roman allows himself to lose control, and that is in bed with Dean, laid out before him, legs spread wide and bent at the knees, open and waiting.

This is the only time Dean can give Roman this freedom, take the weight off him for a least a little while, because when it is just them alone together, Roman doesn’t have to be in control, doesn’t have to think or speak or do anything.

Like this, Roman can finally let go and Dean can be in control. And usually control isn’t something Dean is good at, or something he particularly cares for, but he is good at this, good at making Roman feel good, good at making Roman forget his problems, good at making Roman come so many times he can’t remember his own name.

And Roman is so good for him, keeps his arms above his head and hands locked together and doesn’t move them unless Dean tells him to. Stays with his legs spread wide and keeps his hips still even when Dean has two fingers thrusting inside him.

“How many you got in ya tonight, Roman?” Dean leers above him, keeping a constant pressure on his prostate, milking Roman through his first oragasm. “Can you give me two more, big guy?”

Roman whines through it, face and hairline already shiny with sweat, and rolls his head back and forth on the pillow.

It’s still early in the night but Roman already is having trouble talking, and Dean loves him like this. Loves when Roman just lets him push and push and push and take and take and take everything he is willing to give.

Dean doesn’t touch Roman’s cock, because like this he can make him come multiple times in a row. All he does is keep his fingers inside him, massaging his prostate till his dick is leaking a slow but steady stream out onto his stomach.

After his first orgasm, Dean can see the change almost instantly. 

He likes seeing Roman fall apart, he likes knowing Roman will trust him to put back the pieces. Likes seeing the tension drop from his shoulders, the way his head lulls to side like he’s finally allowing himself to rest. Likes how his mouth goes lax, his jaw dropping to his chest in a silent gasp, finally loosening those muscles that are often clenched for too long in periods of concentration and stress.

He likes how his words spill out that mouth, untethered and free from thought. And he likes how when he nears his second orgasam they no longer are even words but just mindless mumbles and whimpers and Dean loves how they sound so unlike him but still embody his very soul at the same time...like a secret part of him only Dean gets to see.

Roman, who is beautiful in every sense of the word, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and his chest and stomach rising and falling quickly, legs shaking and lips quivering and Jesus what did Dean do to deserve this. What did he do to be given this privilege. The privilege of this powerful man beneath him, crumbling at his touch alone.  _ His _ touch enough to shake the foundation of this man, and Roman willingly taking it and  _ begging  _ and  _ pleading _ for more.

Because as much as Roman needs this, needs this type of control over him, Dean needs it too. And it’s not the control that Dean needs, but it’s the trust. Just the fact that Roman, big, strong, perfect Roman, is  _ allowing _ him this control, means everything to Dean. Just seeing Roman with half-lidded eyes shining with tears, face flushed and panting, so absolutely vulnerable, looking up at him like he is the  _ world _ , makes his heart soar, makes him feel like he has some fucking purpose in this godforsaken life...and that despite every god damn fuck up in his life  _ this _ is something he can do, and he can do it damn fucking well.

**Author's Note:**

> trying to get in the habit of writing again so i'm trying to polish/finish up some older stories i've never posted before...this was just a quick one to start. thank you for reading.


End file.
